


But If You Tame Me, Then We Shall Need Each Other

by SalamanderInk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Banter, Biting, Body Worship, Challenges, Choose Your Own Soulmate, Competence Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Loki (Marvel), Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fae & Fairies, Fae Tony, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Getting Together, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Kink Negotiation, Knotting, Loki deserves the title of Silvertongue, Loki is a bit of a Sadist, M/M, Marking, Nipple Play, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Safeword Use, Scent Marking, Sensation Play, Sex Magic, Sex Toys, Shibari, Soulmates, Sub Tony Stark, Temperature Play, Tony is a bratty sub, Touch-Starved, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalamanderInk/pseuds/SalamanderInk
Summary: A jotun leaving his clan in search for knowledge, eager for new adventures and challenges. Perhaps even a mate.A fae forgotten to the realms and alone, whose only hope lays in the lore of his people.On his wrist, innocuous, a small star, the place where the string of fate was knotted to his core.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 21
Kudos: 134
Collections: Thor and Loki's Kink Exchange 2021





	But If You Tame Me, Then We Shall Need Each Other

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arty (artsmyspark)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsmyspark/gifts).



> Alright so, this is the ~~very late~~ gift for artmyspark, so happy valentines Arty and I hope you enjoy this!

The game had been going strong for months now, but it would soon come to a head. 

Loki’s smile turned hungry. 

He’d been looking forward to it for long enough, after all. He was well within his rights to relish in his victory. 

Writhing in the magic circle as seidr wracked his nerves with pure unadulterated pleasure, his opponent was laughing in glee, his eyes narrowed with mirth and his spirit unbroken. It seemed that his fae friend hadn’t given up just yet. 

“Did you think I was a demon, darling?”

The ground simmered under his feet, low pulses of energy radiating from the trapped sidhe, energy rising more and more until the array nodes started blowing up one after the other. 

The fae slid into a crouch, a smug curve to his lips as he called “Good try!” before leaping away, disappearing into the fog. 

Loki shook his head, a mixture of fond annoyance and amused resignation filling his lungs as he chuckled. 

He would not be catching his mate on this day. Perhaps another time, though it was the fae’s turn next. Loki had best be careful. 

*

Jotnar, like many creatures with deep connection to the latent seidr that dwelled in the world, lived most of their lives in isolation. Their tribes were half nomadic, roaming the frozen plains of Jotunheim during the sun season, and residing in the fortress of Utgard during the storm months. Utgard’s architecture was praised throughout the realms for its magnificence; the use of ice as its primary building material gave jotnar an incredible potential for tall, thin spires and elegant sweeping curves with unheard-of details. Their plays of shadow and light, their use of transparency and space had brought in tourists and students from the twenty corners of the universe, so Loki was pretty used to seeing many different sorts of creatures. 

However, it didn’t mean that he was comfortable with being surrounded by _this many_ people. 

Cities beyond the barren plains were dense and packed with people of all shapes and origins. Suburbs sprawled for miles before reaching skyscrapers of metal and glass, mechanical locomotion growling their way through the wide streets, the acrid smell of various power sources tainting the air. 

Loki had heard of them, but nothing could have prepared him from the sheer claustrophobia that gripped him when he first found himself trapped in the flow of the crowd. He’d started getting the hang of it after a few weeks, finding his way better, figuring out how to navigate the labyrinthine mess that was modern cities. 

A young jotun’s rite-of-passage could last for decades sometimes, and while Loki did intend to make the most of his journey, he didn’t really want to just ‘see the world’. He wanted to learn, to become someone renowned, to accomplish something incredible. Let it not be said that Loki was not ambitious. 

He had no idea _how_ he would do that however, but the great libraries sure helped. They were almost as pretty as those found in Utgard the Beautiful, though their high windows had nothing on the stained-glass domes that Loki had admired in his youth, and their checkered stone floor felt plain compared to the complex mosaics that changed patterns depending on the play of colored lights. The system of organization felt alien, areas delimited with a code that still seemed obscure, then following what was probably an alphabetized order… that was not translated with his current iteration of a communication spell. 

Headaches were common, but Loki was determined. He wasn’t quite certain what he was looking for exactly, not just yet. But, he would find it. 

In the end, _it_ found _him_ instead. 

There was always something mystical in libraries, old corners forgotten to time, where light filtered only through stars of dust. Books so ancient they almost crumbled under even the most careful of fingers, with no title nor authors, and shelves that no one even knew existed. 

Places that you were led to by things beyond even an immortal’s ken. 

Amongst those was an atlas showing lands long lost, whose people were more myths than truth, and secrets to forms of magic that Loki had never even heard of. 

_Fascinating._

Why did those tales speak to him more than those he knew already? Why did they obsess him so? The urge to follow those almost indecipherable directions, the call to adventure, the promise of arcane knowledge and new means of practicing his magic, all of it seemed more potent than usual, irresistible, inescapable. 

As though the threads of fate were inexorably pulling him in that direction. 

Loki smirked. This was exactly the sign that he’d been looking for. 

*

Games with fae were tricky things. It hadn’t been the first time that the fae had escaped his trap, nor that he had caught Loki in turn. The more they played, the more Loki found himself caught into the thrill of their exchange, thrumming with adrenaline and relishing the challenges. Escaping a fae’s plots required great feats of cleverness, sometimes proofs of magical strength and others the use of his agility and strength. 

But it was never boring. 

And speaking with _him_ was a pleasure in and of itself. 

“Don’t you think we are beyond such petty games now?”

Before him, the fae smirked, gaze steady and fingers poised over the upturned cups. 

“What is your wager, blueberry? Or are you too chicken to play?”

Loki’s eyes slid from the pea to the fae’s eyes. 

“Says the one who almost got caught last time.”

Golden eyes narrowed, amused and predatory, like a cat playing with his prey. 

Loki’s nameless friend didn’t seem overly angry at the outcome of their previous game, but then, he’d ever seemed to mind losing so long as the rules didn’t _seem_ to be broken, though sometimes the rules were more of an unspoken system, or perhaps a code of conduct more than an actual set of laws. 

“Come on, snowflake. Do you really think you would have been able to put me in that circle if I hadn’t wanted to be? Your spells really aren’t that subtle.” 

Loki laughed. He was the stealthiest mage of his tribe, and had yet to meet any other seidrmadr with as deft a touch as he. The fae was just remarkably sensitive to seidr currents. 

And to Loki’s seidr in particular. 

“Well, then, what are you looking to gain, fae? Would you like me to put my name at stake?”

Fae teeth were pointed. That fact should not be nearly as arousing as it was. His golden eyes were swirling with magic, bewitching, _smoldering._

“Oh, but darling. You know the only prize I want is _you.”_

*

The instructions from the old books were surprisingly easy to follow. Or at least, they seemed as such to him, though he would admit that most of his confidence came from the steady thrum of magic that steered him on, like the deep undercurrents of the old rivers running under the ice of Jotunheim. Ley lines, as obvious to him as a paved street, a glowing trail that simply felt _right._

If he didn’t know better, Loki would have thought himself on his way home. 

Still, this land had nothing on the snowy steppes he’d lived in all his life. Greenery as far as the eye could see, tall trees thicker even than his mother’s shoulder-width crowding together, their foliage so dense one could hardly even see the sky anymore… No, this was as far from his home as one could imagine. 

It still felt familiar, though. As though the magic itself was welcoming him as an old friend that was visiting again after centuries. 

And then a _new_ friend had stepped out. Skin as pale as an aesir’s but painted with glowing golden designs, eyes of warm honey yet smile cold and sharp. He was short of stature, yet his magic was so potent there must be seidr running through his veins rather than blood. 

Loki was fascinated. 

“A visitor! Much welcome! And who do I have the pleasure of meeting? What brings you to our fertile lands?”

The newcomer’s moves were languid and graceful, a predator confident in his prey’s inability to escape. But Loki was no prey. 

“I am but a weary traveler, looking for knowledge.”

He had read those old treatises. He knew enough to recognize a fae when he came across one, knew to refrain from giving anything as seemingly innocuous as his name or his true goal. Not unless he wished to remain trapped in these lands. 

“Is that so? Perhaps I could help you, mister pilgrim. I possess a fair bit of knowledge myself, and I’d be interested in a trade.”

The air shivered with anticipation, echoes of a pact yet to be sealed. 

“A trade? Or perhaps a wagger?”

The smile they exchanged was nothing short of a dare, promises exchanged without words. They would meet again and again, play their games until there was nothing left to learn from each other, until all their secrets were bared. 

Loki had never felt more excited. 

*

“What do you mean, _soul magic?_ I have never heard of such a thing.”

The fae smirked, eyes hungry as they pinned Loki to his seat. 

“Of course you haven’t. It is one of our old secrets, the reason we guard our names so jealously. A form of magic more powerful than any you’ve seen before.”

Loki almost rolled his eyes. He’d heard merchants’ spiels more convincing, and he proceeded to tell his new friend as much. 

The fae laughed. 

“I am not trying to convince you, drifter. You have asked me for knowledge and I have given you some of mine. I do hope you are not calling me a liar.”

Loki tilted his head. He knew better than to be so gauche. One did not question the veracity of a fae’s words. He had learned much during those months playing with the fae, and his theoretical awareness of fae etiquette had become much more concrete, something of a true expertise that few non-fae could boast of. Or so did his guide tell him. 

Regardless. 

“I would not dare. Though aggrandising or misdirecting is certainly something that you can be known for doing, isn’t it?”

The fae smirked. 

“Perhaps. Is that the trade of merchants? To expand on tales and ‘aggrandize’ them? Make them more palatable to the audience until they salivate after your wares like dogs after a bone? Then, I suppose you could call me a merchant of death.”

Loki startled, red eyes widening at the surprising turn of the conversation. 

“Soul magic is powerful indeed, but only because its cost is so steep. One does not meddle with powers one does not understand.”

The rhyme echoed from from all around them, a melody almost as haunting as it was mocking, a warning every young mage heard long before they even cast their first spell. The very reason entire societies shunned the practice of magic as a whole. 

“There once was a man with some seidr 

Who found that he was quite the bleeder 

The greater the spell 

The more he was unwell; 

Of fine print he was not a reader.” 

Those verses were well known, familiar and forgotten. Magic rarely required more than just a bit of energy, a drop of blood at most, but most mages with low stamina became overly tired if they didn’t otherwise supply prayers and a few offerings to the greater powers. 

“He wants magic and power and glory 

Such folly 

There is a price 

He needs but one last sacrifice”

Still, by the time they became adults, the warning no longer applied. Even less if they possessed as deep a well of magic as Loki. A children’s cautionary tale, an over-exaggeration of the risks, or perhaps one that applied to humans with their frail constitutions, but for gods and monsters?

No. Loki hardly ever even considered the faint soreness a cost any longer, no more than a satisfying ache from a good workout. 

“Impressive spells cast, 

Great sacrifices last. 

With effect unsurpassed, 

Will they find why he passed? 

Thy deceptive seidr.” 

But the fae’s eyes were much too serious for this to be an idle threat. 

Around them, souls of the departed snickered and whispered their enticing threats. Power strong enough to change the face of a world, to turn time and unlock the very secrets of the universe. Mages, young and old, too proud or too desperate, who’d unspooled the very essence of their souls to enact their fool endeavors. Only their shades remained as forewarning to the coming generations. 

Loki listened, half fascinated, half horrified. 

“We are the guardians of the secrets of soul magic, and we tend to those fallen to its wiles. And tis those secrets I would offer you.”

He was tempted, horrifyingly so. Still. 

“You sell your wares well, merchant of death. Magic that cannot be used without killing the wielder tends to be short on usefulness.” 

The fae’s smirk widened, bright and dangerous. 

“I would not offer you a skill that you could not use, dear wanderer. We may hold the secrets and the caution, but we also hold the key to its _use,_ free from worry or toll.”

That made no sense. 

“Excuse me?”

The fae’s eyes glittered with the mirth of a showman who’d managed to hook their audience, and indeed Loki was waiting for bated breath to the climax of this incredible bit of con-artistry. 

The fae extended an arm between them, exposing the delicate skin of his wrist. There was something nestled there, small and innocuous compared to the many shifting designs roaming his golden skin. A star, one that Loki recognized instantly. He caught himself cradling his blue arm closer to his own chest, hiding the tiny misplaced stain that he’d carried his whole life on that exact same spot. 

Most beings never even noticed it. Jotnar had lines everywhere, and it took years to learn all the subtleties of the messages etched on their skins by the norns. 

But this dot, this tiny star that he’d carried with him since birth, _this_ no one had ever been able to explain. It was no kin line, spoke of no great uncle or other distant ancestor, of no particular prowess, no ability of his flesh. None in the frozen plains had known what to make of it, none had ever seen anything similar. 

Until now. 

Loki stared at the fae, expectant. This had better not be a trick. Had it been anyone else, he’d have thought it impossible: jotnar markings were incredibly complex and it was unthinkable that any random stranger would be able to figure out that there was an actual mystery etched onto his skin. 

But his fae had always been incredibly observant and far too clever for Loki’s own good. 

As much as Loki loved it, relished the challenge and the thrill of the chase, of their banter and games, he also knew to be suspicious of potential duplicity. 

Fae were notorious tricksters after all… at least according to those few forgotten tomes Loki had scrounged up. 

But the fae was serious, eyes surprisingly devoid of even the slightest hint of mirth. It was unsettling, even. 

“You might have understood by now, this is not the true land of my kind.”

Yes, Loki had figured as much. Even without the lurid descriptions of revelry and illusions he’d read about, it was rather obvious that there was no other with fae seidr within that forest. His fae companion seemed to be as much of a traveler as he himself, either that or he’d chosen to live his life isolated, which was peculiar for creatures as social as they. He might be in exile also. Loki knew not the tale, and had done his best to skirt the potentially upsetting topic. _Never volunteer information, never pry into business not your own._

The books had been clear. 

“I left my clan long ago, looking for something new, the thrill of adventure, the shape of my fate. I’d always known that life would take me far away from my birth land, that I was meant to travel the roads, and I’d hoped that one day I would meet someone like you.” 

Loki frowned. It didn’t add up. 

“Because of that mark?” 

The fae smirked conspiratorially, and nodded slowly. 

“Because of that mark. This,” he marked a pause, just for the sheer drama of holding his captive audience at the edge of their seat, “this is the place where the string of my fate is knotted to me.” 

What manner of ridiculous-

“A Norn’s thread? Are we but puppets on string then?” His voice took on a wry quality. 

Loki had little faith in the absoluteness of destiny. For all that he could not contest the Norn’s weaves, he still wouldn’t consider their influence to be the main driving force of his life. He had his own will, his own path to create for himself, he wasn’t a bird ensnared in a net, trapped in a web of strings. 

But the fae was unphased by the undercurrents of mockery. 

“It can mean many things of course. Some hold this as proof of a grand destiny, others believe it means they will be remembered as great scholars, or powerful mages, or have many important descendants. It could mean many things, but mostly it meant _magic,_ exceptional power, _compatibility.”_

So, a mark that meant everything and nothing. 

“Compatibility for what?” 

The fae smirked. 

*

“You know, dear peddler, I believe I have found a way to win our little games.”

The fae glanced back at Loki from under his lashes. In his hands, the cards shimmered oddly. 

“Oh? Would my favorite traveler have decided to put an end to our relations?” 

The words may have sounded nonchalant but Loki could perceive an undercurrent of tension under there. So he wasn’t the only one invested in this relationship. 

“Not quite no. Quite the opposite in fact.”

The weight of the fae’s attention made itself heavier. Now to set the bait. 

“How about a deal?”

Slowly, deliberately, the fae put down his hand. Loki held back the thrill he felt at that. It wasn’t time to celebrate just yet. 

Still, there were few things that could distract one of the fair folk from their games. 

“That would depend on what sort of deal you speak of, snowflake.”

Loki leaned forward, letting his breath fan over the fae’s lips. He smirked. 

“You spoke of compatibility, my darling merchant of death?”

Golden eyes glowed. 

“I am listening.”

Loki’s fingers trailed through the fallen leaves, relishing the texture of humus under his fingers. He could never get used to it. It was neither hard nor fluffy, not smooth, nor jagged. _Fascinating._ Drops of ice slowly fell from his fingers, frost fractals progressively hardening the ground. 

Red eyes held gold. 

“You see, you were quite vague with your explanation earlier, and let us be honest. _‘Compatibility’_ could mean basically anything. But on this account, I would guess that it relates to _soul magic.”_

The fae’s pupils widened, huge dark disks surrounded by a golden corolla. Briefly, Loki thought of solar eclipses, a crown of sunlight peeking from behind the darkness, the few minutes of absolute silence while the world went dark. His attention was riveted. 

It seemed that Loki was on the right track. 

“Go on.” Words whispered on single breath. Lips a hair’s breadth away. 

Loki smirked. 

“You said soul magic didn’t cost a soul, but the connection between the soul and the being. That one who dabbled in such a field found their souls wandering from their bodies and unable to come back, their mainstay gone. Yes?”

The fae licked his lips. 

“That would be accurate.”

Frost spread further around Loki as the air grew heavy with seidr. Anticipation rose between them at this new game they were playing. 

“So, offering a new anchor to the soul would be an effective way to… avoid the more lethal side effects.” 

The fae’s breath felt heavier. He _had_ said that cleverness aroused him, but Loki hadn’t expected that it would be so obvious. How convenient. 

“As such, perhaps said compatibility would mean the ability to forge such anchors, such _connections.”_

The fae shuddered, eyes growing hooded. 

“Perhaps, indeed.”

That last was pure conjecture but…

“A connection between two people, _two souls.”_

The other sighed, blissed out. 

“Yeeeessss...”

Loki leaned back, satisfied and triumphant, and yet still intrigued. 

“How is it not known? No one I’ve met was able to recognize that mark, and I would have thought that if your kind were to mingle with other beings, you would be less of an urban legend. Unless bonds are usually between two fae?”

The fae sighed and slumped, dejected. 

“No, you are quite right. Our soul-bonds are all with foreigners, with mortals.”

Loki startled. “Mortals?” He couldn’t mean…

“Humans, yes.” 

_Humans existed too?_

“But, I am not human.” With his blue skin, red eyes and wide horns he didn’t think he even looked the part either.

And yet, on his wrist, this star. 

The fae’s smile became sad, his eyes watching something long gone. 

“You aren’t. But humans became extinct millenia ago, and so our people left the spotlight to less dependent people. Living without soul magic has been… difficult, but not impossible.”

Loki felt his heart sink. 

“Is this why you’ve approached me, then? In order to forge such a bond?”

The fae smiled, shaking his head, wan. 

“This mark could mean anything, could imply any number of things, but all I’ve ever wanted was challenge. And _you,_ darling, you’ve been the most interesting of them all.” 

How charming. Loki was ‘interesting’. 

And yet, for fae, Loki would guess that it was indeed quite a flattering qualifier. 

“But a bond with a mortal could hardly be a sustainable thing. What were they, your puppets?”

There were some old tales, after all. Loki had always thought them myths, those stories of primitive and short lived beings, sometimes clever but never quite able to free themselves from the machinations of the fae. Some tricked, some trapped, some even blessed, but all of them nothing but pawns in the game of any seidr-wielder. 

Gold eyes closed, bitterness suffusing his face. Wishfulness, perhaps, for a time long gone?

“Some were. Playthings caught to dance and flounder for our own amusement. Some instead managed to distinguish themselves, to earn regard and power of their own, to obtain immortality and status. They weren’t quite human anymore in the end.”

But Loki wasn’t about to accept an answer like that. His voice lowered, seductive and dangerous, red eyes narrowed and glimmering with magic. 

“And which am I?”

The fae laughed, a tinkling of bells that Loki had started to grow familiar with. 

“Can you even doubt it? I have never met anyone quite so brilliant before, or so unpredictable. How could I possibly be so wasteful as to make you _boring?”_

Gold eyes glittered, voice sultry. 

Not for the first time, Loki was reminded that fae were far from benevolent. _His_ fae had a good heart, but he was still fey. His moral compass was as far from that of jotnar as a fox’s from bear. It was just as well that Loki had never quite been a typical jotun, that his mind had always been fonder of illusions and underhanded means than the warriors of his tribe. Those strange new laws of politeness and trickery, that peculiar blend of doublespeak and honesty, Loki _liked_ them. The games, the danger, the challenge. 

He would not mind a partnership with this being. Wouldn’t mind, even, if it lasted longer than his extended trek through this forest. 

Or for his entire life. 

“You’d spoken about a deal?”

Loki startled. He’d been the one to lead the conversation, the one to ask questions or lay down conjectures, the catalyst for every answer so far. 

But now, his fae was watching him with a savage grin and sharp eyes, his stance loose but ready. 

So he’d noticed. 

Very well, then. 

Blood thumped through his veins, adrenaline tingling down his limbs. Time slowed. 

Before anything else, jotnar were predators. Quick, agile, _powerful._ They were used to the harsh winter plains, to battling beasts even greater than they, and to swiftly taking down even the most lethal of creatures. 

And fae were definitely _lethal_ if nothing else. 

Loki leapt. 

They tumbled through the ground, the frosted leaves creaking under their weight incongruous in the balmy climate, if one discounted the being of ice that had decided on this day to _hunt._

Under him, his fae struggled under the heavy limbs pinning him down, growling, wild but gleeful, because fae liked nothing more than to be entertained, to be _surprised._

And, judging from the single drop of blood rolling down his friend’s cheek, Loki had at the very least managed _that._

“I did.” Loki smirked at his captive, letting his inner ice encase his fae in unbreakable bonds. “I figured, since we’d been stuck in this back and forth for so long, perhaps it was time to up the game.”

Golden eyes glittered up at him, narrowed with a blend of interest and menace. Blood dripped from his cheek and sizzled as it touched the frozen ground.

“Is that so? And what would my darling snowflake propose in exchange?” 

This was a gamble. 

But then, so was anything worthwhile in life. 

“We are _both_ trapped.” 

The fae’s eyes widened, glowing with power as he checked Loki’s claims. Admittedly, they were quite outlandish, attempting to win a game by deliberately _losing_ was a ridiculous strategy in itself. 

But Loki had his mind set on a bigger prize. 

The ice imprisoning his fae thinned to snug bands, and deceptively delicate chainlinks of unbreakable ice that glittered fetchingly on golden skin. The fae shifted, pulling curiously at the bonds, testing their give before looking up, inscrutable. 

“So we are. Well, then, in that case, what _is_ your masterplan?”

Loki smiled, the very same baring of teeth he’d witnessed on snow cheetahs after they’d caught their prey, the smile of a predator who’d already won but chose to _play_ before going for the kill. 

“I plan on wringing from you every ounce of pleasure your body is able to give. I plan on seducing your name out of you, and then forcing your limp and sated flesh through bliss again and again until you forget it entirely. And then, I plan on offering mine in turn, and binding our souls together through the very magic you’ve been seeking for millenia. How does that sound to you, dear merchant?”

Silence stretched between them, probing, _expectant._ Loki felt nervousness twist in his belly though he was careful not to show it in his face. He didn’t think he’d misread the signs, the lingering glances—lingering _hands—_ , the flirtatious banter, pet names, the terribly unsubtle hints about that strange and powerful magic, exactly the type of bait a young jotun in quest of knowledge would jump at. 

He didn’t _think_ he was wrong… but the wait was nerve-wracking. 

The fae smirked. 

“Seduce my Name from me? How bold of you to believe yourself capable of such a feat. Are you quite certain you aren’t being a tad bit overconfident? Do your worst, honey. I look forward to seeing what you’ve planned.”

Loki could only smile back. For all that the words seemed mocking and casual, the fae was still giving him his consent, putting himself in Loki’s hands. _Trusting_ him. 

He’d been _right._

He leaned forward, crouching over his friend’s bound form, claws dragging over the golden skin. He reveled in the contact. For all that they’d teased and brushed along each other, Loki had never truly gotten the chance to _take his time._ To just explore. 

And having the fae bound and pliant before him, at his mercy, so deceptively vulnerable… It was thrilling. Those golden eyes looked defiantly back at him even as he shivered under Loki’s ministrations, goosebumps trailing the wake of Loki’s questing fingers, voice snarky yet rough, muscles tense as coils. 

“Do you actually intend to _bore_ me into compliance, sweetheart?”

Loki chuckled. 

His fae looked beautiful in his defiance, muscles bunching up as he jerked in his bonds. 

Perhaps it _was_ time to up the ante. 

Slowly, meticulously, Loki started weaving more ropes of ice. Soft and smooth as silk, yet as unbreakable as uru, the contrast of the frosty white would be striking against the golden hue of the fae’s skin. 

Loki tilted the fae’s head up, calm red gaze unfazed by the fire blazing in those golden orbs. 

“You did tell me to do as I wish, did you not, pet? Then I would like to remind you which of us is bound, and which is in control. Unless you _ask_ for this to stop, things will proceed as I will it, _when_ I will it. Do you understand?”

The fae shivered, pupils blowing, breath coming short. Slowly, he nodded. Once.

Loki had guessed right, then. His captive wasn’t looking for a way to get the upper hand this time because he found Loki’s casual play of dominance _arousing._

It made things easier, though he shouldn’t expect his tiny trickster to stay nice and cooperative just because he enjoyed having someone to boss him around, quite the contrary. Still, it was a gratifying reaction. 

He petted his hair gently as a reward, gentle praise falling from his lips almost as an afterthought. 

The fae shivered, eyes falling shut as he leaned into the hand. 

Loki blinked. Interesting. Perhaps he could try something.

“Will you be good for me?” 

The fae’s eyes were still hooded as he nodded once more, body pliant and willing as Loki kept up a steady stream of praise and approval while he loosened the rigid chains and maneuvered his limbs in his preferred position. Loki slowly wound the lengths of ice ropes around his flesh, securing him to the array and fastening his forearms snugly together behind his back until his chest arched up fetchingly. Thin but sturdy ribbons criss-crossed over it in a delicate netting of ice. Soon after, his legs were all laced up as well, spread open and bent at the knees, all exposed and vulnerable and _delicious._

Loki wanted to ravage him. And he would do just that. Later. 

He would wreck him first. 

His fae was all trussed up and ready for him, after all. He would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation. 

“Comfortable?”

Slowly, gently, he caressed the taut flesh, following the lines drawn by his ropes, watching his captive shiver with each touch. He waited for the answering nod, checking carefully for any pinching, for places where the blood flow could be restricted, the weight unbalanced, or where the ropes could tighten too much. They might be nigh on immortal and have the ability to heal from just about anything, but Loki wasn’t going to have any lover of his uncomfortable, especially when their trust was already such a fragile thing. 

“You did so well. You’ve been so good to me, sweetheart. Such a beautiful lover I caught myself, didn’t I?”

The fae gasped softly. His body was trembling, cock twitching, eyes almost black with lust. 

“So responsive. You like it when I speak to you like this, don’t you, pet? When I take charge and tell you how pretty and clever you are. Such a good boy.”

Loki carded his fingers gently through the soft brown hair, exceedingly pleased with his find. He might enjoy the fight, the challenge he got from his fae, but he loved the trust he was shown even more. Though he doubted this half dazed state would last very long. He would enjoy the return of his snarky companion, once the high of praise and dominance wore off. 

Until then, he would have some fun. 

“These are sensitive, yes?” 

The delicate whorls of magic decorating the fae’s skin did indeed seem very much like Loki’s own kinlines, a dormant power only waiting to be awakened under the skin. And as Loki traced them up gently, then more harshly with the delicate scrape of a claw, he could feel it respond, a bubbling rush of power and ecstasy just waiting to be tapped into. 

His poor fae had no clue what was in store for him. 

Loki let a few sparks of magic drip from his fingertips, sinking down through the glittering designs. He watched with glee as they lit up under his hands, shining iridescent and pulsing with slowly awakening power. The fae jerked, gasping, writhing yet helpless as his bonds remained firm, the various anchors that Loki had secured him to leaving him unable to so much as flinch away from the bolts of ecstasy running through him. 

Loki chuckled darkly. He could have much fun with this. 

The fae’s body was far from being entirely covered in markings the way a jotun’s were, but there were still some pretty dense patches on some distinct and _strategic_ places. 

He grinned, wide and gleeful. The urge to wreck, to bring his lover to the edge of what he could take stirring in his blood, an insatiable beast that would only be quenched with his lover _ruined,_ ravaged to the last inch of his life, begging for more and for it to stop in the same breath. 

Perhaps Loki would even manage to go that far this time. His fae was of a proud sort, one who’d always enjoyed the challenges put before him, enjoyed besting them, overcoming hurdles and trials. Perhaps he would want to play this game to its end. 

Loki couldn’t know. But he sure could enjoy what he had before him just now. 

Ice chips grew from his fingers, long, flat, glinting brightly as their imbued seidr pulsed with life. Two, three, ten, Loki let them form before affixing them one by one to his ropes, laying them flat over the incandescent patterns that adorned his lover’s skin until his fae looked like a glittering masterpiece, a living jewel writhing in abandon, tormented by his own unquenched lust, sacrifice immolated by his own magic. 

His poor lover looked beyond words, his wide eyes sometimes caught Loki’s own calm gaze before rolling back as wave after wave of pure power washed through him. 

Loki watched. He watched his lover squirm, writhe, jerk and jolt; watched him slowly lose more and more control as his stubborn silence gave way to pants and gasps, to mewls and cries. He watched as the spiral of crystals twisting around his legs shone with power and the one on his chest pulsed with a too-quick heartbeat, watched those powerful arms strain against bonds they could not break. Watched as his fae’s cock wept, untouched and throbbing with need, already too close to a release that was not yet earned. 

Perhaps there was something missing to the picture. 

Loki leaned down, crowding over his poor captive, eyes greedily taking in the sweet desperation that was gifted to him so beautifully. He let his lips linger on the heaving chest, on the long column of his throat, pulling an earlobe between his lips and nibbling gently as he listened to those sweet sounds of blissful torment. 

Yes, he could do something more to complete the picture. 

His hands dragged down the heaving chest, claws scratching lightly as he crossed exposed skin, gently soothing the sting afterward. The fae jolted each time with a choked gasp, and Loki almost wanted to keep playing this small game just to enjoy the feel of his lover squirming helplessly against him like this. But no. He had plans. 

Finally, his greedy fingers came across the pebbling nubs, sensitive nipples that he’d often admired from afar whenever his companion had wandered his way without a top covering. They were rather fascinating, darker in tone than the rest of his flesh, reacting strangely to the differences in temperature, and judging from the cut-off cry that had just escaped his captive’s lips, they were also _quite_ sensitive. 

Loki pinched one. 

The fae groaned, hips stuttering and back arching as he squirmed, caught between trying to escape and reaching for more. 

So Loki decided to play some more. Scrapping, rubbing, pinching, licking, all of this drew from his lover’s lips the most beautiful sounds, helpless gasps and moans, yelps and pleas, always just shy of begging. 

This was _delightful._

A kiss brought a layer of ice to cover them, thickening into a clasp that fit snugly over the small nubs, a thin chain hanging loosely between them. 

Loki drew back. 

His fae cried out in alarm, trembling, arching up into the empty space between them. Loki shushed him softly, drawing closer and pressing a delicate kiss upon his cheek. 

“It’s been a long time for you, hasn’t it? Since your last lover, since you were last _touched_ so deeply, so _intimately.”_

The fae groaned, nodding helplessly, even as he leaned into the cruel hands, the insatiable yearning for contact all too obvious to Loki. He’d seen it in warriors or hunters who’d left the clan for too long in their quests, who’d been isolated and alone for longer than their souls could bear without harm. When they came back, they were starved for the warmth of the community, and yet skittish almost in their aim to reconnect. It took a while for them to feel _home_ again, to trust and rely on the touch of the clan. 

His fae didn’t have that. There was no clan that Loki had seen, and many of the things he’d left unsaid made Loki think that there might no longer be one for him to return to. 

His lover was starved of touch. 

And Loki fully intended to leave him so gorged of contact he wouldn’t feel such a distressing dearth again. It might not be today, or tomorrow, but his fae would learn to expect the warmth of a caress and the comfort of a hug when he needed one. 

“My beautiful pet, let me take care of you. Let me love you until you feel nothing but me, let me guide you through your pleasure until you hear nothing but my voice, until you are nothing but my will. Would you like that?”

The fae had melted under his hands, pliant and yearning for each caress, leaning into his touch. It was gratifying as much as it was worrying. Perhaps when he was sated of touch, his lover would go back to his sassiness. Still, so long as his darling enjoyed himself, Loki would not complain. 

Though perhaps he’d also underestimated the effect a fae’s inner magic had on them. His lover was still writhing in his bonds, getting more and more desperate under a mounting arousal. His cock was hard and weeping, swollen with delayed orgasm, bouncing helplessly with each futile struggle. 

Now, to let his pet come, or to make him wait? 

“I will give you a choice, pet. You can come now, but I will continue to pleasure you regardless until you are back to the brink of orgasm again, or you can wait until later for your release, and you will only have to come once. Which do you prefer?” 

His lover whimpered, lost in the torment of his body and the headiness of arousal, but Loki would not have that. His hands framed his fae’s face, thumb wiping a stray tear from his cheek as he leaned closer. 

“Well, love? What do you choose?” 

His pet choked, swallowing a few times as his eyes struggled to focus on him. 

“...Please.” 

Loki frowned, worried. 

“Do you wish to stop?”

His lover shook his head with more vehemence than he’d managed since the beginning of their game. 

“Please, _more!”_

Loki’s heart melted. It shouldn’t quite count as an answer, but his pet was already so beautifully wrecked, voice rough and needy, eyes wide and wet with unshed tears, trembling and begging so prettily. How could Loki refuse him anything? 

(Such a dangerous thing to think around one of feykin.)

His hands slid down, one tangling around the pretty nipple chain while the other scraped its way down some nicely firm abs, the dip of a hip bone, the smooth and skin of a groin, before finally taking hold of the aching cock. 

It throbbed in his hand, warm and thick, so hard he could feel his lover’s heartbeat against his hand, quick as a hummingbird’s. 

Loki stroked, once, twice, hand twisting and squeezing as he worked his way along the surprisingly smooth cock, rubbing under what seemed to be the head. Loki wondered at the alienness of it, even as he did his best to pleasure it. 

There was no ridge, nor bump for a knot like Loki was used to from his own cock, but there wasn’t a second head either, nor a flaring tip or corkscrew shape. One single smooth shaft, with a small fold of skin that revealed a slightly bulbous head. It seemed to like it best when Loki used simple back-and-forth movements, gentle pressure and soft caresses. Simple enough, and Loki guessed that it would also be quite efficient when he decided to try it out himself. It would certainly be easier to figure out the logistics than with his trysts with dwarves. Counterclockwise undulations of the hips were a hard trick to get the hang of. This one looked refreshingly straightforward, and Loki almost wanted to change his plans a little, if only just to try it out. Next time, perhaps. 

He tugged lightly on the chain in his other hand. His fae groaned, the sound almost plaintive as his probably sore nipples were abused again. The cock twitched, drops of precum leaking on Loki’s hand as he twisted his wrist, stroking it once, twice more before his pet cried out, body drawing taut as a bow’s string, hips jerking erratically as thin white ropes of viscous fluid shot from the small opening at the head of his cock. 

Curious, Loki kept stroking as more spurts of come surged out, then as the cock turned limp and soft, until his pet started squirming and whimpering under his touch. 

He removed his hand, humming pensively as his lover’s body turned slack suddenly, limbs loose and sluggish. 

Dragging a fingerpad along the soft cock had his lover turn tense all over again. 

Peculiar. 

“Does it hurt?”

It took a couple times before his pet managed an answer. 

“...No. It’s just… Too much. _Please!”_

Intriguing. 

Loki’s eyes narrowed, even while he let the glow of magic dim from the crystals against his pet’s skin. He could see the fae visibly relax in response.

“How long till it is no longer ‘too much’? Surely you would know.”

The fae groaned, the sound between resigned trepidation and a distressed whine. 

“Half a candlemark, perhaps?”

Loki hummed in thought. Less time than it took a knot to deflate, but more than he would have preferred if it meant stopping his games entirely. 

Though, there could be a compromise found. Sometimes _too much_ could be on the right side of _not enough._

He caressed inside of a bound thigh instead, gently, almost absentmindedly, teasing the sensitive flesh while carefully observing his lover’s reactions. There were shivers, soft gasps and a drawn out moan, an aborted flinch when he got to caressing the tender skin of his balls, but all in all, this didn’t seem to be too harrowing an experience. 

Loki’s lips twitched. He felt like being just a little bit evil right then. 

“How about we make it a quarter mark instead?”

There was a strangled sound, golden eyes glaring at him incredulously. 

“Or you could just kill me right now, it might save you the trouble.” 

Loki tsked. 

“So little faith.” Untrue. His lover had shown him so much trust already, had placed himself in his thrall so _beautifully,_ Loki knew better than to dismiss it. He might even reward it. 

“How about this, then. A wager.”

The fae raised a brow, wry. 

“Really? Now?”

It seemed his orgasm had given him back his snark. All the more reason to turn him back into a writhing mess.

“Do you object?” Loki hadn’t ever heard of fey turning down the chance for games or challenges, but then, there were few sources to question about their customs. Perhaps bedplay was supposed to be kept from trickery? 

“Hell no! Bring it on, you sadist. What’s your bet?” 

Loki smirked, gleeful.

“If I succeed in bringing you back to hardness in under a quarter of a candlemark, you will share your True Name first. If I don’t, then _I_ will be the one to effer it to you. What do you think?” 

The fae was interested. Of course he was, he’d been trying to weedle it from Loki from the start. Good thing that Loki’d been forewarned. 

Still, the suspicious light in that golden gaze told Loki that it wouldn’t be that easy. 

“There will be no manipulation of the candle flame. The candle is the one _I_ use to measure, not one from, say, Niddavelir’s mines or some other weirdly timed place. No changing the nature of the wax either.” 

Loki nodded, pleasantly nonchalant. 

“Of course. No tricking the clock.”

Golden eyes narrowed. Loki smiled. That distrust was quite legitimate, after all, since Loki had just implicitly promised not to look for _any_ loopholes in this rule. 

“Is that all?” 

“No!”

His poor fae, still looking for a trick. 

“There will be no magic. No more playing with my marks, or any other aphrodisiac substances, nor spells of arousal.”

Loki inclined his head with a smirk.

“No magic will be used to affect your body.”

The fae frowned because this time Loki _had_ left himself quite a few openings. Loki’s eyes were glinting with mirth, daring his lover to call him out on it. After all, Loki was also wagering his name in this bet, and he had yet to call for a single clause to protect his interests. 

“A third condition, perhaps?”

His pet glared. 

Loki chuckled. Perhaps he was being a bit too smug, but he was having a lot of fun. 

Then his lover started to smile, something gleeful and self-satisfied. So his pet thought that he’d found a way to get the upper hand in their little game, then. Loki smirked back, the promise of a challenge heating his blood. 

“You are not allowed... “ his fae paused, as though weighing his word, “to touch my cock.” 

Loki’s brows raised. Such a clever and devious little thing. 

“Nor my nipples or my lips.”

But not clever enough. Loki was willing to put that down to leftover arousal clouding his mind. 

“You do realise, love, that you’ve still left me free reign over the rest of your groin? Doesn’t your poor ballsack deserve some protection from my deviousness as well? Or that taut skin peeking out from under there, between your thighs, or around your taint? Or, perhaps even the delicious curve of your ass?”

From the way his poor fae seemed to tense all over, he really hadn’t thought this through. Really, If Loki wanted, he could probably have made him come without touching his cock once, nor even going _near_ his groin. Though it would have perhaps taken much longer. 

Regardless, the wager was not for another orgasm, but for a renewed _hardness._ And for all that his pet’s condition might have seemed like a dirty trick to some, it only made Loki laugh some more. 

“Let it not be said that I am an unfair lover. I will raise you your stakes, then. Since you want to be safe from my touch, I shan’t touch you. No skin of mine will come into contact with yours for the duration of our wager. And as that was your third and last clause, shall we agree with these terms?”

Wide gold eyes stared back at him, lush lips that he’d been forbidden to touch—the gall!—parted in surprise. But Loki only smiled, calm, poised and unworried. 

“Well?”

The fae seemed at loss for words for a few moments, blinking once, twice, before he frowned. 

“You know, if you simply _want_ to give me your Name freely, there’s no need to make us both wait. I promise to be gracious about it.” 

But the jab was tentative, suspicion coating every word.

Loki’s lips quirked. Of course he’d smelled the snare, but then, where would be the fun in there _not_ being a trick? 

“Oh but I insist. Unless you’re scared that you’re going to lose even with so many cards stacked in your deck?”

Loki’s smile widened even as his poor pet gritted his teeth. Because if there was anything a fae could resist even less than a game, or a wager, it was being _dared_ into taking it. Even when they knew it was a trap. 

Perhaps even _especially_ then. 

“I agree to these terms.” 

“As do I.”

Magic sparked between them as it bound them to their words, a promise more unbreakable than the course of the sun. Not that it truly mattered, fae were creatures of honor, there would be no need for magic to force a leaden tongue when his pet lost. 

“Perfect.”

Now, Loki could truly have some _fun._

He hummed in thought. 

Where should he _start?_

“Do you know how beautiful you look, right now? All trussed up and ready for me, with your seed still coating your belly from your previous moment of bliss? Your chest is still heaving from the rush, and your lips swollen from biting them. Such a masterpiece, a wonder of beauty and arousal. My wanton little thing, how wondrous you were as you gave in to the bliss in your veins, as you surrendered to the pleasure I offered you.”

Gold eyes widened in alarm, something akin to mortified horror crossing his poor pet’s face as he started to redden. A fetching blush that dusted the tips of his ears, and interestingly enough, the limp cock started twitching on his stained belly. 

Loki smirked knowingly. 

“You can’t say that!”

Loki hummed, devious. 

“Why couldn’t I?” 

Loki leaned forward with a smirk, framing his lover with his arms, careful not to touch. 

“If my pet is being particularly good or especially fetching, I fully intend on saying so. And if I want to spend days on end telling him how beautiful and brave and _perfect_ he is, then I shall.”

He let his breath fan over his lover’s parted lips, relishing in the choked gasp it drew. 

“If you wanted me to refrain from doing so, you should have added that to your terms, darling.”

A strangled sound escaped from the fae’s lips, impotent rage mingled with arousal clear in the wordless cry. 

His fae had always admired cleverness, even when used against him. He must be cursing himself for forgetting that Loki’s most powerful tool had always been his words. Poor dear. 

Loki was terribly unsympathetic to his plight at the moment. He was having way too much fun. 

“Do you know how happy I am with you? How well you did? _How proud I am?”_

The fae shivered under him, eyes much too wide. 

“You react so beautifully. I never knew someone could be so delightfully responsive, so entrancingly sensual in their bliss.” 

His breath grew heavy, squirming in his bonds, helplessly trying to escape the pretty words whispered so alluringly against his lips. It seemed his little pet had more trouble accepting praise when he wasn’t already out of his mind with arousal. Pity that. 

Loki chuckled huskily. He dragged his lips over a smooth cheek, always just a hair’s breadth from touch, just the tease of a caress that could be but would not. His breath blew on dusky skin, warm and moist, ruffling fluffy brown hair and making his lover's eyes flutter shut. With his lips right against his pet’s ear, he whispered:

“One day I’m going to ride your cock.” 

His fae swiveled his head to the side, eyes wide in shock. Loki only smirked, leaning back to neatly avoid any actual skin contact. 

“I will have you tied up on my bed, laid out on furs I’ll have hunted for you, hard and desperate, with your ass full of my seed and plugged shut. You’ll already have been fucked loose and pliant, so the plug will need to be big to keep your pretty hole good and closed and make sure you keep it all inside.” 

Loki let his hand hover just above his fae’s thighs, just shy of a touch but enough still to be felt. Back and forth, the tease of a caress, the promise of a sensual game left unplayed.

“You’ll be writhing with arousal while I slowly lick every single one of your lovely marks, your still untouched cock hard and red, throbbing and leaking on your belly. And at some point, if you beg me prettily enough, I’ll be generous enough to offer you the relief you need.”

A few fingers hovered over the twitching cock, caressing the air along its shaft. It was still limp yet slowly growing interested in the proceedings again. He smirked. 

“I’ll open myself before your eyes, slowly, before straddling your hips. I’ll put one hand right there on the center of your chest, and the other in your hair to tilt your head back as I lean down to kiss you, _slowly._ ” 

Loki moved up again, his hands ghosting over the bound chest of his lover, teasing again, for that was all he was allowed to do. But it would certainly be enough for his purpose. His eyes grew half lidded as they held a dazed golden gaze. 

“And just when you feel like you can’t breathe anymore, I’ll slowly sink down on your cock, gently, carefully taking that thick cock inside me.” 

He titled his head back, letting his lips part a little, licking then biting his bottom lip as he imagined the feel of it, a thick hot rod inside of him, spearing him slowly open as his pet’s breath stuttered under his hand, an aborted gasp as he tried to struggle in his bonds, hips yearning to piston up, to bury that greedy and desperate cock in his warmth. But Loki would only allow it to happen on _his_ terms. 

His eyes glinted challengingly back at his pet, letting him feel the fantasy playing out between them, the ghost of a future that _could_ be if only he gave in. 

“I’ll start easy, with my cunt, as it’s warmer and wetter, and you’ve been so good and patient already. Your cock would be too hard and sensitive to take my tight ass. So I’ll fuck myself on you until I’m soaked, our juices blending together on your belly and dripping down on the furs, your gasps sounding so beautiful as I squeeze you between my walls.” 

The fae whimpered. His body started shaking under Loki’s hands, half aborted jerks that tried to reach for that forbidden touch. 

Loki’s voice grew husky and quiet as he leaned up close, raw with the weight of sensual secrets. 

“Sometimes I steal them straight from your lips, sometimes I let you moan and cry out as I nibble on your ear,” he breathed in the corner of his pet’s jaw, “as I bury my teeth in your neck,” his lips dragged over the smooth column of his pet’s throat, smirking as he saw it flex with a swallow, “as I lick down on your nipples,” he whispered in the nook between sharp clavicles. 

“And then, once I’ve taken enough pleasure from you, enough that my cunt clenches and squeezes around your eager cock and my juices gush around you, drenching your belly with my essence, _only then_ will I lift myself off of your dripping manhood, and _I will take you in my ass instead.”_

Loki smirked up at his poor pet, his hair sliding from his shoulder to drag over a frozen chest. “Breathe love.” 

A gasp, entranced eyes wide as he hung onto Loki’s every word. 

So very flattering. Perhaps Loki would go easy on him after all. 

Or not. 

“The hole will be tighter, drier, but your cock will be slick with our juices, and I will go slow because I _know_ how desperate you’ll be to finally get to come. But you won’t be able to, not until I say so.” 

He moved down, slowly, carefully. Not once did he let his lips touch that delicious skin, though his chuckle dampened a trail over his bound chest, down that firm belly until he found his lips hovering over a half mast cock. 

“And I won’t say so until I’ve fucked myself loose on that pretty cock of yours, until you’re well and truly wrecked with lust, until you’ve forgotten your own name and the only thing you remember is how much you want to please _me.”_

He smirked, blowing gently on the leaking head. His hair caressed the side of his fae’s belly as he looked up through his lashes, the fiendish hunger in his smile hinting at pleasures that his darling had denied himself. He licked his lips, well aware of the picture he was painting there, crouching over his bound pet’s hips, mouth so very close to a cock he could not touch. 

“And when I’m finally satisfied with you, when you’ve proven how good you are and how perfect and beautiful, I’ll remove the plug from your pretty hole and fuck you again.” 

His pet shuddered, panting, jerking futilely against his laced prison. 

Loki only hummed, moving further down and settling between his pet’s parted thighs, breathing softly on the soft skin under his balls. 

“My cock will slide inside you so smoothly you’ll barely even feel the stretch, your hole so sloppy and full of cum it’ll gush from you with each of my thrusts.” 

The fae groaned, cock jerking, thighs trembling.

“And then I will remove the band keeping you from release and take you in hand. Your cock will be hard and throbbing, raw from hours of unfulfilled need and arousal, so it will be very quick, just a few short jerks before you cry out as orgasm rushes over you.” 

Loki leaned back, lips pulled in a devious smile, voice sultry as its promises ensnared his prey. 

“Wouldn’t you like that?”

But his poor dear didn’t seem to be able to respond. Such a pity, because Loki wasn’t quite done yet. 

“Perhaps you’d prefer something else instead.” 

Loki made a show of pausing as though searching for new ideas. Meanwhile his hands started roaming over his pet’s legs, never quite touching yet letting themselves be felt. 

“Perhaps you would like to ride me instead. What do you say, love? I could have you trussed up so prettily, hanging suspended over my bed.” 

His eyes cut back to his squirming captive. How he enjoyed seeing him so tangled in his ropes, like a pretty fish caught in his net. 

“You would be placed just at the right height for me to make use of you whenever I wished, hovering just over the bed with your legs pulled up to your chest and your pretty hole ready for me. I could lay down and just pull you down on my cock, watching you squirm as I spear you open again and again, and then I would lift you off me and just leave you hanging there, blindfolded and helpless, with your hole still exposed and leaking with my juices to show you how well you’ve been used.” 

His fae squirmed, face red at the image Loki was describing. It was certainly harsher than the previous, just a bit more humiliating too. It was always a bit of trial and error to figure out what a lover would or would not enjoy, what he would like to hear about and what he would like to _do._ Those weren’t necessarily the same thing. 

“I would praise you for your hard work and feed you bits of fruit from my hand, petting your hair gently and telling you how well you did. I would cradle you in my arms, tease your well used hole and kiss your plush lips, and all the while you would do _nothing,_ because you _could_ do nothing, bound and blind and at my mercy as you would be. Because that’s exactly where you wanted to be.”

His pet whimpered, the image perhaps a bit too close to what he truly wanted at the moment. His body was arching, yearning for contact, pushing up into hands whose touch he’d warded off. Poor darling. But Loki wasn’t about to let him break the terms of their agreement. 

Loki let his voice darken with lust. 

“I could put your pretty cock in a cage, and you would let me, no matter how much your mouth would protest, your body would reach out instead and become pliant under my hands. I could tease you with a toy and you would only ask me for more. Yes, perhaps I’ll do that. Use you, fill you up with my seed, then let you squirm with one of those vibrating contraptions pushed right against your sweet spot, driving you mad with ever mounting arousal.” 

Now that was quite the picture. His darling bound on his bed of furs and squirming helplessly as one of his toys worked him to the edge and kept his there for hours, aching for a release denied by the cage around his cock - the thought was a heady one, and the way his pet’s cock jumped let him know that his mood shift did not go unnoticed. It seemed that his lover was attracted to danger. 

He smiled, dark and sadistic. 

“You could writhe and jerk all you’d want, but it would only make you swing uselessly on your rope and bring you no closer to completion. My poor pet would need to ask me for help with his straining predicament, and of course I would help. I am a gracious lover after all.” 

Generous but cruel, and wasn’t that combination perfect for the lover of a fae? 

“What would I do? Perhaps I could lick your pretty little cock until you came all over yourself, leaving you bound and oversensitized with the toy still going in your ass, or perhaps I could replace it with my own cock and have you again, what do you think? Which would you prefer?” 

His lover shivered, a groan escaping his lips as he threw his head back, hips jerking up. 

Loki’s eyes cut down to the proud cock bobbing between those powerful golden thighs. 

Almost, but not quite. 

Time to up the ante, then. 

He leaned close, breathing out against the fluffy brown hair. His fae smelled of pine, musk and oak. Heady. 

He made his voice quiet and husky again, as though sharing a secret. A dangerous and sensual secret. 

“Or perhaps I could do both. I could take your pretty hole while it’s still sensitive and sore from the toy, ramming my cock down on your swollen spot until you scream your pleasure to the heavens. It would be a long, slow, and _hard_ fucking because I would refuse to touch your greedy cock. I would force you to come only from the feel of my cock inside you and my voice in your ear, but come you _would,_ because you are such a good and obedient pet to me.” 

Loki smiled, fiendish and gentle. His lips almost caressed the shell of a pointed ear, breathing against the sensitive tip. The fae shivered, whined, his cock jolting. 

Close now. 

“And then, once you are limp and sated, with your pretty cock emptied of its seed, I would push the toy back inside your sloppy and come-filled hole, and tease you with more pleasure than your body knows how to take. I would let it buzz once more against that sore and sensitive spot until it feels like your skin is on fire and your mind turns white with the torment of bliss.”

His poor lover shook under his words, head shaking in denial even as his breath started heaving with arousal, eyes almost black with lust, hips thrusting almost on their own against a phantom touch it would not receive. Pushing back against a toy that was not there. 

“And when you beg and cry that it is too much, I could lick up your limp and sore cock until it rose up to its hardened state once more, tearing pleasure from your resisting flesh. But of course your cock would obey my will in the end. And your cries of too much would become pleas for more instead, and you would beg oh so prettily for me to let you come once more.” 

His hands were hovering over that clenching belly, relishing in the tension he could sense coiled there. His lover panted, gasped, squirmed under him. He was quivering with need, but Loki wasn’t really about to let him have what he wanted. 

He _had_ asked for Loki not to touch him after all. And what kind of lover would Loki be if he didn’t take his pet’s wishes into consideration?

“And I would let you, of course, because you’ve been so very good for me. You’d taken everything so well and so bravely, so trustingly. Such a sweet pet I got myself, aren’t you?” 

And that was his lover’s breaking point, the moment where he let go of his pride and embarrassment and shock and started begging, a nonsensical stream of words that always looped back to a heart-wrenching _“Please!”_

And Loki would _please_ indeed. 

He never could refuse his fae anything, after all. 

“Of course, love. What do you want?” 

His lover twisted in his net, trying to put words on the crushing feeling that had come over him, a wave of incoherent need that he was drowning into. 

“Please, more!” 

He had won. 

Between his bound legs, the fae’s cock was hard and thick once more, leaking with need and bobbing eagerly. 

He would give his lover what he wanted, but not before he was given his due. Loki smiled gently.

“Yes darling pet. But I need you to do something for me first. Can you do that, love?” 

The fae whined but nodded, mad with lust yet still eager to please, and _oh_ what a magnificent creature he was. Loki had never in his wildest dreams imagined he would ever find a being who would enjoy his deviousness nearly so much, at least not one who would demand praise and gentleness in its extreme instead of actual pain and harshness. How wondrous. 

Loki had no intention of ever letting him go. 

“What candlemark are we, sweetheart?”

The fae froze, eyes snapping wide and limbs tensing up. His eyes dragged to the side where the magic of their vow had lit the candle, one that could not be tampered with. 

Loki did not need to look. He knew he had won. He only needed his lover to admit his defeat and give him his prize. And with it the means to bind him at his side forever. 

Not yet, though. Not like that, not under that premise. 

Not while his darling dreaded the thought so much. 

“You won.” 

There was something almost bleak in those words, a hint of bottomless terror that Loki didn’t like to hear in his fae’s voice. 

“I did.” 

Golden eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. 

“Are you gloating? You don’t seem to be gloating.” 

“I am not. You’ve been so very good, and incredibly beautiful in your abandon and your sensuality. It’s a shame to see you so tense over such a beautiful thing, or to have your loss be due to the way you respond to me, but I will not relinquish my prize.” 

His lover blushed, squirming. His head almost leaned toward him, but Loki made no move to pat it. His pet slumped, dejected. 

Perhaps he was being petty. The wager was over after all, and so its terms were now null. But. 

Just the once, to reassure. 

His hand came to rest on the bowed head, ruffling gently the soft brown strands, carding through them softly. 

“I am proud of you, my darling merchant. You did very well, you were perfect. But now I need you to trust me some more.”

Wide eyes peeked at him, dull gold somehow less vibrant than Loki’s ever seen them. The war between hope and fear blatant in the tight set of his mouth. 

Loki waited, hoping that his own calm and serenity would bleed onto the suddenly skittish being at his side. That his patience would show his honesty. 

In the end his fae’s name did not pass his lips. Instead a ghostly wind brushed through Loki’s hair, smelling strongly of pine and oak and fey magic. It swirled around the span of the ice array, before coming to rest in the crook of Loki’s ear, whispering its precious secret in a sigh. 

Loki’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected the weight of the power held in that single word, in that _Name._

Almost unconsciously, his lips parted, the Name almost silent as it escaped his lips. 

“Aéthan’Ondhainn.” 

His pet shivered, eyes wide, ashen and frozen as his name was spoken aloud for the first time in his existence. The weight of a fae’s soul rested strangely in Loki’s chest. How peculiar to think that it was now _his._ Loki could do anything at the moment, could ask anything and Aéthan’Ondhainn would be forced to comply, his will subsumed under the thrall of Loki’s ownership. 

But that was not what Loki wanted. No matter the games he liked to play between the sheets, the reason he’d become so interested in his lover was that the fae was as clever as he, as competent, and wily enough to stump him more times than not. Loki was looking for an equal partner, not a _possession._

He would never speak this Name again, it was too dangerous, too powerful. None but they both should ever hear it. 

Still, now that he’d been given his Name, he should be allowed to call his lover _something._ An actual name instead of the endless stream of nicknames that passed between them. 

“Could I call you ‘Anthony’, perhaps? It is not your True Name, but I could hardly use that in everyday conversation, after all. Would you like that, or would you prefer something else?” 

The fae blinked, shaking himself from the trance of hearing his True Name spoken. Loki could see it now, a thrall that had been cut when Loki had moved on without issuing a command. 

“...Anthony…”

The fae let the new name roll on his tongue, as though the word was a foreign spice he couldn’t quite place. Loki had _tried_ to pick one that echoed the general sound and feel of his True Name, but there was really no way to know if it was the right thing to do. The fae’s lips pursed. His eyes cut back at him, shadowed and wary. 

“I can _choose?”_

This _would_ be a problem. Loki had thought he could wait, but… 

“...How about Tony instead? It could be a shortened form, a _nickname?”_

The words were hesitant, as though his pet expected to be reprimanded for his daring. But it was something. It was a way to make this his own. 

“If you’d like. If you’d prefer to be called something else, you can always ask.”

The fae, _Tony,_ shook his head in denial. 

“No, I do not mind. Lovers should have something to call each other. It used to be something sacred for my people, the Sharing. And close ones always had something to call each other, never True Names but kin names instead. Nicknames. It was its own form of intimacy, in a way.” 

A wry smile graced those lips, old pains pulling at his brow before his expression cleared. Loki wondered who it was that he’d given those kin names to. 

“Tony, then.” Loki smiled, leaning close to press a soft kiss to those plush lips. _His._ “My own birth name is Loki, Laufey-Childe, I have earned the titles of Silvertongue and Skywalker.” 

He exhaled, feeling the essence of his magic escape with his sigh and curl up in his lover’s chest. He shivered at the sensation, a soft warmth surrounding him and the feel of Tony’s own True Name pulsing brightly inside his chest. It was strange, but pleasant. 

He smirked, leaning back. 

Tony was watching him with eyes black with lust, magic sparking heavily around them both. He breathed Loki’s name, his lips caressing each sound like a lush treat, the bond between them humming with power and intimacy. 

He smirked back, golden eyes glittering with mischief, all traces of worry gone from his countenance. 

“Do you know how adorable you are when you get touched with magic? It’s like all your hard edges turn into soft mush.”

Loki stared back, unimpressed. Tony only smiled wider, a dimple showing on his cheek, golden sparks of magic pulsing through the patterns etched on his skin. 

“I think I’ll call you Snowflake instead. What do you say?” 

Loki rolled his eyes. It was impressive how his pet managed to sound so self-assured and cocky even trussed up like an oven’s roast with his cock hard and leaking on his belly. 

“Wouldn’t you rather I do something for this instead?”

Loki glanced rather pointedly at the straining erection bobbing merrily between them. Tony blinked, as though he’d forgotten. Perhaps he had. It was a momentous thing they’d done after all. 

Loki’s star mark tingled on his wrist, the rest of his hand itching with residual magic; beating in time with Tony’s soul inside his chest. It would take some getting used to. 

Was there something else they needed to do to achieve that soulbond Tony had spoken of? 

“Well, if you don’t mind getting to it, then yes, it would be just _grand,_ darling Snowflake mine.”

Tony leaned back into his bonds, biting his lip enticingly and lowering his lashes in a sultry glance. He squirmed, deliberately showing off the way his bonds dug into his skin, the way he was trapped in Loki’s hold, completely at his mercy, all the while jutting his hips up invitingly, his cock standing proudly at attention. 

In short, Tony was being an absolute tease and a terribly behaved pet who didn’t seem to realise what situation he was in. 

Poor darling. He would learn soon enough. 

“Well, I _would_ give you a hand, but then I seem to recall my pet telling me I wasn’t allowed to _touch_ him, so, it seems that we’ll have to do without.”

Tony’s eyes widened in alarm, straightening somewhat from his slouch. 

“Wait, wait, wait, you’re not _still_ on this, are you, Snowflake? You know I…”

Loki smiled, all dark pleasure and his predatory grace. Tony’s words trailed off. Now _this_ was a kind of worry Loki was much more comfortable provoking. 

“You’re not just going to leave me like this, are you? Snowflake? Darling? Bluebell?”

Oh, Loki sure _could,_ it might have actually taught his brat a lesson about mouthing off. Unfortunately, or perhaps thankfully, Loki had _plans._ And he was loath to put them off. 

“Well, now, if you ask nicely, I’ll see if I can do something about your predicament. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Tony relaxed, relief clear in his eyes. His poor pet. He didn’t seem to realize just yet what he was in for. Loki wasn’t about to tell him, though. It was much more fun to see him come to the realisation on his own. 

“Please, Snowflake. Please make me come. Please take care of me?”

Golden eyes looked up at him, beseeching, his voice low and soft. 

Loki had to hand it to him, Tony knew how to beg very prettily. He smirked. 

“Of course love. I absolutely _will_ take care of you. And I will do it without my skin touching yours, just as you asked. And you will be a good pet for me, won’t you?”

Tony tensed up, eyes wary. 

“But?”

Loki only smiled. 

“Perhaps if you’re very, very good, and I can see you being sincerely sorry, I will touch you again. But don’t worry, I absolutely _can_ make you come without it.” 

This strangely did not seem to reassure his pet. Pity that. 

Loki leaned in close, inhaling the delicious aroma of his pet’s arousal, his musk, the delicious blend of sensual fear and desire. His smile turned fiendish, _hungry._

“Don’t worry darling. There were quite a few loopholes in those terms. We’ll get to explore them together now, won’t we?”

Tiny droplets of ice crystals tinkled down on Tony’s belly, freezing pinpricks that melted on touch. Tony gasped, spasming at the surprise sting, shivering as a few other shards dropped onto his shoulder, a trail of cold water running down his back. 

“Sweetheart, we can talk about this.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, humor glinting through his red eyes. 

“Is that so?” 

A couple of _bigger_ ice chips fell on the crook of Tony’s thigh, too large to melt right away. Instead icy water started streaming down in rivulets down Tony’s groin and dripping down his inner thigh as he squirmed. 

_“Cold!”_

Indeed it was. Loki usually took care to manage the temperature of his ice in order to be comfortable enough for his less hardy lovers. However, _this time,_ Loki wanted it to be felt. 

“Yes it is, isn’t it? How does it feel? Does it tingle, does it _burn?_ Perhaps if my pet keeps being this insolent he could feel the sting of it on his pretty cock, don’t you think?”

Loki paused, thinking. 

“Unless you want to stop?”

Tony gulped, falling still and silent. Loki smirked, a smattering of ice flakes falling on a strong thigh. 

Tony hissed, tensing. A few on his collarbone. He moaned. Another on a calf. A shiver. A flinch from the one on his chest.

Loki was having great fun surprising his pet with small shocks of cold, randomly distributing his tiny stinging flakes across the expanse of his pet’s body, enjoying his futile struggles and shocked surprise. There was something beautiful to the display of raw reactions to this small sensual torment. 

And his pet _did_ seem much better behaved suddenly. 

Perhaps he deserved a reward. 

“You are taking this so well, pet. Do you think you can take a little bit more for me?”

Tony moaned, half opened eyes watching Loki with a perfect blend of dread and hope. 

“Well, pet?” 

A handful of tiny ice beads skittered down Tony’s chest. He cried out, flinching, his body growing taut as the stinging pearls of ice coursed all over his heated flesh.

“Please!” 

Loki hummed, voice dark as he sent a few more flakes down. 

“Please what, love? Please stop? Please more?”

Tony shook his head roughly, confused, lust crazed and needy all at once, but Loki supposed he could forgive that. His body kept sending him conflicting signals, and it would be difficult even for one hardened to such games to keep track of it after all. 

“Whatever you want, please. I’ll be good!”

Loki’s heart almost melted. 

“Of course you will, love. You’re already being very good. You’re taking this so well, my beautiful pet.”

He put two fingers together, letting a thick layer of ice coat them until it became a smooth rod. Then, holding Tony’s wide gaze, he touched the rod to the center of his pet’s chest, relishing in the hitched breath, the hiss escaping from drawn lips, those expressive eyes so conflicted between arousal and alarm. The ice steamed, barely melting from the contact with Tony’s searing skin. Just enough to leave behind an icy wet trail. 

And then, Loki had some fun, exploring his pet’s flesh once more, the way it reacted, bunching, coiling, tensing, shivering, seeing the way his breath caught then left him in a rush, the way he shivered or trembled or lurched. He watched, learned, and filed for later use which places were the most sensitive, which were the most arousing, the most vulnerable, or responsive. 

And while he played, his poor pet twisted, bucked, gasped and begged so sweetly. His body was Loki’s canvas and he was helpless to his cruel perusal, only able to endure that icy trek, to feel it’s branding wake all over his body as Loki marked him as his own. An invisible claim but one that Tony could feel sink into his flesh almost as deeply as his soul had wormed its way into Loki’s own chest. 

Across his torso, around his limbs, all over his pet’s exposed flesh, he traced a sensual and torturous path, relishing in each of his pet’s noises, admiring his firm flesh, his muscled form, his willing submission. 

And then he reached the bend of a hip, the crook of a thigh, the soft taut skin under his groin, so delicate, so sensitive. Tony squealed, hips jerking, thighs flexing uselessly as Loki caressed that vulnerable flesh. 

Loki hushed him, gently soothing the cold with a warmer sigh, though it probably only exacerbated the chill of the damp paths. 

Tony whimpered, tense and trembling as Loki started to explore his exposed hole, the taut skin of his perineum, his balls and cock swinging with each jolt. Then Loki started circling the small furl of his ass, the small ring of muscle drawn up tight and clenching even harder against the cold caress. 

Loki smiled, devilish as he let a long, smooth rod grow in his other palm, its texture more opaque and rubbery than any of his previous ice. He dragged it gently across Tony’s inner thigh, humming appreciatively, both at the hiss it drew from his pet and at the syrupy trail that latched onto the skin, and the thick ribbons of goop still sticking to the rod. 

It would do. 

His pet blinked back at him, confused, but Loki only smiled. 

“I need to make sure you don’t get hurt, darling.” 

Loki hadn’t thought that Tony would make the connection, but his fae had always been clever. 

Gold eyes widened with panic, limbs straining against the ropes, arching away, but really, what did his poor pet expect? None of these theatrics would sway Loki, because he could see that, through it all, Tony’s pupils were still blown wide with lust, his cock throbbing and leaking pearly precome, squirming that brought him stealthily closer instead of flinching back. His pet was not actually scared, though the apprehension was real. But so was the excitement and the anticipation. 

So unless Tony asked for them to stop, Loki wasn’t going to let a little squirming hinder him. 

He dragged the rod over the soft skin of Tony’s inner thigh, back and forth as he spread more and more viscous fluid on the sensitive skin, climbing steadily closer to his goal. Tony whined, shaking as Loki inched the rod to the taut skin of his perineum, lingering a moment on the crease between thigh and groin before sliding up, leaving behind a sticky and freezing trail. Back and forth, the rod caressed the delicate skin between balls and the crook of his ass, leaving behind a thick coat of frigid goo. 

Tony shuddered, back arching with a gasp. His cock jerked, small spurts of precum leaking down to join the mess of fluids pooling under there. He whined. 

“My poor pet. You’re being so brave for me, aren’t you? You’re so very good to me, such a good darling. My Tony, my darling pet, will you take this for me as well? Can you do that? Can you take this in your pretty hole to prepare it for my cock? You’re so tight, love, so tight and dry, I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Loki circled the rod around the tight ring of his pet’s ass, poking softly through the hole and back, teasing at the furled muscle. He _was_ tight, but that might also be due to the cold. Loki was being a bit cruel, he knew this, but there was something so beautiful in his pet’s distress, in the way his back arched and his eyes fluttered, clenching shut as he moaned, deep and guttural. And most of all, he relished the way Tony just bit his lips and nodded, apprehensive but willing, _trusting._

Loki smiled, and spoke of his pride, of his pleasure, of how wonderful his pet was doing, how brave he was. And through it all, he slowly teased his pet’s hole open, breaching it with his ice, coating it with its lube. Deeper and deeper it went, a gradual back and forth as his pet bucked and panted with the rush of glacial slick spearing him open. 

Loki watched, fascinated as his pet’s hole widened over the rod, hugging it tightly, slickly dragging over its girth, back and forth in a pantomime of the thorough fucking he’ll give his love later on. 

Tony’s voice hitched, frantic little cries escaping him as he tensed, back arching, thighs trembling. Loki paused.

“Alright love?” 

Tony groaned, hissing a broken yes through his teeth. Loki hummed, before resuming his ministrations. 

His pet’s ass was clenching around the rod, torn between flinching from the cold and gripping the thickness to keep it from encroaching deeper into him. Loki hummed. 

Gently but insistently, he kept pushing the rod deeper, twisting it, retracting it just a little only to thrust it just a little further in, gradually sinking its length into his pet’s warm hole. 

Praise fell from his lips, commending, cajoling, encouraging his darling and rewarding his efforts, lauding his bravery and his beauty. His words were low and honest, raw with dark desire and predatory intent. He was watching Tony’s ass greedily swallowing a shaft of ice, but he was seeing his own cock instead, his blue flesh slowly opening his pet’s hole under him, easing his way in slowly, wetly sliding back and forth as he pushed his way deeper into his pet’s welcoming warmth. 

“Look how well you’re doing, how beautiful you look in your wantonness. Soon enough you’ll be taking my cock instead. Would you like that? Would you like it if it was my cock instead piercing you ass like that? Fucking you open, pressing deep inside you, deeper than this rod, than your fingers, deeper than anyone else managed before me. Deep enough that I could fuck right into your soul, and you would let me, would’t you love? You would let me because you’ve _already_ given me your soul.” 

Tony whined, the words going straight to his cock as he struggled helplessly, but the icicle kept sinking deeper into him, inescapable, inexorable, _merciless._ Loki’s will was indomitable, unswayed by his cries, by his flinches or his blushes. And he loved it, he couldn’t get enough of it, but… 

“Stop!”

Loki flinched back, revolving the rod, removing himself, everything that might be responsible for his pet calling for a stop. Alarmed red eyes caught to wide gold, questioning. 

Tony’s breath shuddered out, voice wet and small as he asked, “Please, touch me.”

Guilt gripped Loki’s throat as he leaned back in, hushing his lover softly, caressing him, holding him, petting him. “You’re good, you’re fine, I’m here, you’re perfect love, I’m here for you.” Over and over again, Loki reassured his lover, and himself, that they were both fine, both there for each other. 

“Should I untie you Tony? Do you want me to release you?” 

Tony’s cock was still hard, but that was hardly a good indicator of what Tony wanted. Loki didn’t want to push Tony in any direction, his comfort was too important. But Tony only shook his head. 

“No. I… We can keep going. It was fun. But I needed… I just…”

Loki hushed him, petting him, carding his hands through his hair. He understood, of course he did, and he cursed himself a fool for not having taken that into account. He _had_ noticed how much his pet craved a living touch, how he found reassurance and peace in physical contact. And yet he’d denied it to him, all the while pushing him further and further into emotionally and physically harrowing ordeals. 

He pressed a soft kiss on the column of Tony’s throat, murmuring a quiet but sincere apology. He never wanted to make his pet uncomfortable, and he was grateful that Tony had asked him for what he needed. Blue hands roamed the bound chest, feeling the way his pet’s ribcage expanded with each breath, rumbling with pleasure at Loki’s caresses. 

“I’m serious though, Snowflake. You can go on with your thing, really. I’m going to be terribly disappointed if I don’t get a taste of that huge blue cock you’ve been promising me. I didn’t take a fucking iceberg up the ass just for you to chicken out halfway.”

Loki chuckled against Tony’s throat. 

“You are such a _brat.”_

Tony smiled cheekily. 

“And what are you going to do about it?”

Loki’s hand dragged down Tony’s chest, caressing his cum stained belly and drawing random patterns on the bare flesh. Tony shivered, arching up into the touch. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure I can think of something.”

Suddenly, he took the fae’s smooth cock in his hand, stroking him slowly, relishing in the way Tony’s chuckle broke off, turning into a ragged gasp as he thrusted into the vice of Loki’s hand. 

But Loki wouldn’t let his pet off that easily. Tony had said that he wanted to play, after all. Loki didn’t intend to disappoint. 

“I seem to recall _you_ begging off from said ‘iceberg up your ass’ as you called it. Perhaps my darling didn’t feel up to the challenge? Did you get _cold feet,_ perhaps?”

Tony groaned, squirming, his cock pulsing in Loki’s hand. He was so hard, so very close. 

“You’re evil. You’re _so_ evil. You’re not going to make me ask for it, are you? You wouldn’t be that cruel, would you?”

Loki only smiled back pleasantly, his other hand stroking Tony’s thigh in time with his cock. 

“You _wouldn’t._ Snowflake, darling, I can’t just ask for… No, come _on.”_

Loki’s smirk widened. 

“Of course not, pet. You won’t be _asking_ for it. I fully intend for you to _beg.”_

Tony groaned, a blush dusting his cheeks as he tried to hide his face in his shoulder. But Loki could be patient. His fingers trailed over Tony’s skin, caressing, admiring, and he started to _talk._

It was tame at first, just describing Tony’s reactions to him, the way his skin felt so very warm under his hand, the sensuality found in the curve of his shoulder, the way he could see, _feel,_ the powerful muscles hidden under his skin, the elegance in his silhouette, so deceptively charming and yet surprisingly powerful. 

Tony whined, trembling, his cock hardening and thickening in Loki’s hand. It was throbbing with need, Loki could feel it, feel him so very close to his release… And he let go. 

Tony cried, distress and outrage at how his release was so cruelly denied to him, but Loki only smiled. 

“My poor little love, you won’t be allowed to come until you’re stuffed full with my cock. And you won’t get my cock until you’ve been sufficiently lubed up and prepared for me. And _that,_ darling, implies that iceberg you so charmingly spoke of earlier. Pity that you didn’t seem to want it.”

Tony sputtered, his scandalized look absolutely priceless. Mirth danced in red eyes as Loki started blowing gently on Tony’s body, watching with interest as goosebumps rose around the damp trails left by his earlier tease. Tony squirmed, cock bobbing, wet with fluids. 

“Please, love, please Snowflake, let me come. I’ll be good, I promise!”

Loki chuckled. That was indeed begging, but not quite what Loki wanted. And he always got what he wanted. 

“Not good enough, pet. You know what I want.”

Tony squirmed, lips pursed. It seemed that his pet was being stubborn. Loki smiled fiendishly. All the better to have some fun with. 

His fingers traced gentle paths down his pet’s limbs, followed by his lips and tongue. Teeth nibbled gently on the edge of a bicep, on the point of a clavicle, the thickness of a pectoral. And Tony squirmed, and groaned, and gasped, but his lips stayed stubbornly shut. Loki suspected that he wanted to keep the game going as much as Loki did. 

Tony broke when Loki had reached his inner thigh, suckling in a bruise deep enough to bloom, lips and tongue and teeth working to drive his pet wild with lust and leave yet another claim on him - an intimate one this time - one that would throb and ache and stir his lust with each touch. 

“Please, _please_ Snowflake.”

Loki smirked against the golden skin, one hand trailing up to Tony’s hard cock, giving him a few strokes, wiping a thumb over the head of his cock as his pet strained in his bonds, hips arching up, limbs tensing with the onset of his orgasm. Loki released him. 

Tony whined. 

Loki tutted. 

“You know what you need to do, pet.”

Golden eyes glared stubbornly, though his twitching lips betrayed the game. Loki was right, Tony was enjoying this. Well, good. Loki didn’t want the game to stop quite so soon either. 

Loki’s fingers dragged back up Tony’s chest, seidr crystals sizzling briefly under his hands as he reached up, carding through Tony’s hair and pulling. The fae groaned, low and primal, hips stuttering up as his head was forced back. Loki chuckled against the crook of his hips. His lips caressed the tender sin at the base of his balls, teasingly mouthing his sack and delicately nibbling on the fragile skin. 

His eyes caught Tony’s own dark gaze. He smirked. 

His mouth opened around the thick shape, tongue swirling around as he watched Tony’s composure steadily dissolve, eyes clenched and shaking head, ragged cries escaping from parted lips, legs irrepressibly twitching, hips struggling against his hold, helplessly trying to reach up, but Loki wasn’t done with his pet. Not yet. 

Tugging once more on his hair, he forced Tony to look back at him, tugging forcefully and waiting until he was sure he really held his attention. Tony’s breath was ragged, chest heaving, but he was looking at him now, those wide gold eyes locked on his own red gaze. Loki smirked, and, with a challenging look, took one ball in his mouth. 

Tony howled, hips stuttering, cock pulsing with need, but it wasn’t enough for him to come, of course not. Not untouched, not yet. A blue hand glided down his heaving chest, activating the seidr crystals and reawakening the magic in his markings. Loki could almost feel it himself now, the gentle hum of magic coursing under his pet’s skin, driving him wild with lust, mad with need, desperate with unfulfilled arousal. 

Tony’s cock started jerking, pulsing with the onset of orgasm, so very, very close. 

Loki smirked around his prize, then let it out of his mouth with a small _‘pop’,_ removing himself from his writhing lover. 

Tony was howling, cursing, sobbing at the cruel denial. Loki could admit to himself that he might have been just a little bit evil there. He didn’t regret it one bit however. 

“My poor pet. You know what you need to do to end this, don’t you, love? Such a clever pet you are, my Tony. I know you can do it for me.”

A strangled noise escaped from Tony’s throat, his breath short and rough, his skin glistening with sweat. 

Loki caressed him, gently soothing him. His pet was magnificent in his torment, in the way he gave himself to the desire overwhelming him, the way he seemed almost drunk on lust and still begging for more. 

Saying as much only made Tony groan, a plaintive sound that seemed to echo the way his cock twitched sadly, yearning for a release that Loki had no intention of delivering just yet. 

“Come on, love. I’m waiting.”

Tony huffed, squirming, helplessly trying to breath his way into composure. Loki let him. What poise he could manage would not be lasting long anyway. 

“Please, Snowflake, _please_ shove the icicle up my butt and _let me come?”_

Loki snorted, snickering at the grouchy demand and the terribly honest and crude way it was presented. It was definitely not respectful, but then it was _entertaining._ Should he push it? Loki shook his head, fondly amused. 

“As you wish, pet. Let it not be said that I am a cruel lover.”

Tony laughed, before gasping loudly as Loki presented a new ice rod against his rim. It was thicker and colder this time, if only because the previous one had already started melting before Loki had presented it to his hole. But neither of them really felt like teasing anymore. 

Tony groaned, jolting against the cold and moaning loudly as the shaft sank in, easier than the previous one but just as harrowing. He whined, quick, desperate gasps escaping him as Loki pushed the icicle in slowly. He gulped in air like a drowning man, twisting, squirming almost unconsciously against the glacial breach. 

Loki hushed him, gently caressing his flesh, stroking his cock, his flanks, his trembling legs. The rod was slowly sinking deeper into him, melting its way in and leaving behind a thick trail of viscous, slippery fluid. Loki circled Tony’s rim with his finger, spreading the goop, rubbing it inside the skin. 

It would help, not only by making the slide of his cock easier, but also with Loki’s _girth._ Loki’s cock did not look one bit like his pet’s, he’d noticed earlier and had known right away that he would have to do something to let his fae be comfortable during their lovemaking. 

For one thing, fae did not have knots. Loki had suspected when watching his hardened cock, and seeing it after orgasm had only confirmed as much. Secondly, Loki’s cock was made to be able to fuck a giant. Tony was not one. But he wasn’t like one of the elves either, whose anatomy seemed to flex and adapt to their lover, holes widening to almost disproportionate sizes in order to accommodate dicks and members of all sizes. 

So Loki had to… improvise. He wanted to fuck, Tony wanted to _be_ fucked, and neither of them would let something so pesky as anatomy stop them. 

Still, though. As much as they’d both thought it theoretically possible when they’d talked sex before this day, Loki prefered to make sure. A bit of magic to ease the way and safeguard their health went a long way to reassure Loki of his pet’s comfort. 

Even if it _was_ cold. 

Though Loki didn’t really _mind_ putting his Tony through _that_ type of discomfort. He did seem otherwise overheated after all. 

He smirked, twisting the rod a little deeper. 

There was something fascinating in the way Tony’s hole spread around the ice, the greedy ring of flesh sliding smoothly over the soft and slippery surface, wide open and yet still so tight. And there was something incredibly alluring to seeing him squirm around the hard length of ice, his dishevelled brow pinching as Loki made him walk the delicate edge between rapture and torment; his body twisted in the raw grasp of sensuality while Loki was explaining to him the way his ice dildo would make it safer for them to fuck. 

The matter-of-fact way Loki had to talk about the logistics of ramming his own too-big cock down Tony’s pretty and tight hole did seem to drive Tony even wilder, which was a nice bonus. 

Loki was taking his time. 

With the ice gradually sinking deeper and Tony slowly losing his mind above him, he had all the time in the world. All the time to tease his pet’s hole and leaking cock, to press the taut skin under Tony’s balls and watch him lurch with a cry, to drag his claws gently down his flesh and leave behind burning trails of red. Loki kissed Tony deeply, swallowing his moans and cries, kissing his damp cheeks and nibbling on the tip of his sensitive ears. 

All the while, he slowly, gently but inexorably worked the ice deeper into his pet, relishing the overwhelmed gasps and whines it dragged from him, the wanton moans, the wet sounds of his rim dragging against the slippery fluid. Until, finally, the icicle sinked entirely inside his pet. Tony sobbed, hole clenching helplessly shut and sealing the frozen rod inside his belly. 

Loki kissed him, whispering praises and comfort against his trembling lips, gently stroking his throbbing cock and caressing his tightly clenched hole. 

“You did so good, pet. You’re being perfect for me. Look how well you did, how well you took it in. So good, darling, so brave.”

A blue hand caressed Tony’s belly, kneading carefully as though he could feel the ice through the warm flesh. Perhaps not, but Loki could always feel some connection with his creations, and it was still thick and cold, even clutched into the furnace of his pet’s core. Perhaps Loki could do something to help it melt a bit quicker. 

Loki’s hand came to hover over Tony’s crystal-covered marking, slowly calling forth the gentling buzzing seidr resting in their hearts. Tony gasped, jerking hard against his bonds, conflicting sensations overwhelming his already overwrought mind as his own magic started swirling through him, heating his blood, searing through his nerves and pooling deep into his belly. His arousal was _aching,_ cock hard and throbbing, core torn between the freezing burn of the ice and the incandescent blaze of magic. He wanted more, needed relief, didn’t know what he could _do_ anymore. 

He sobbed. 

_“Loki!”_

Loki could feel the power of his Name tug through him, his lover’s distress and desire clear in that call. He cradled his lover in his arms, letting his own magic buffer them both, soothing the terrible ache and fanning the flames at the same time. He was a reassurance and a temptation both, and Tony wanted very much to be tempted and reassured. 

But what he wanted most was _release._ He’d been thoroughly seduced already, and more than a little _wrecked,_ and he’d been promised an orgasm that he had yet to see. He _had_ waited, quite a while at that. 

Loki teased at his lover’s hole, finding his rim coated in syrupy liquid, the thick fluid escaping from his tight rim with each squirm, each teasing touch making the ring of muscle clench and relax just enough for the lube to spurt from him, leaking slowly down his crack. Loki hummed, pleased, before kissing Tony’s embarrassed groan from his lips. 

“Ready?”

He teased the hole open with his thumb, one last test to check how it gave way. Tony squirmed, eagerness and arousal making him clench over the offending finger and letting more globs of viscous liquid drip onto his hand. 

“Yes! Now get _on_ with it!”

Loki chuckled, satisfied, before removing his hand and using the slick to coat his own hard cock, before placing the head at Tony’s entrance and finally pushing in. 

Tony was tight. 

That was the first thing Loki felt when he let the tip of his cock breach his lover. He was so very tight and _hot,_ even after having his insides washed in ice. The lube was wet and smooth around him, the drag almost easy if not for the snug way his pet’s walls were gripping him. 

Tony was groaning, gasping, breathless as he shook apart around him. Loki shushed him, kissing his trembling lips, caressing his heaving flanks. He waited, with just the flared tip of his cock pushed halfway through his pet’s rim, squeezing him so deliciously. He wanted more, a primal instinct to take, to _claim_ making him want to ram all the way in, to hammer his way into his lover until there was no space left untouched, until his love was entirely _conquered,_ ravaged and limp with sated bliss. 

But Loki could not do that just yet without hurting his fae. So he waited, excruciatingly until Tony’s breath evened out, until those eyes blinked open and he smirked, a bit shakily but still challenging, still cocky and mischievous. 

Loki silenced him with a kiss before he spouted some more outrageous jabs. His cock pushed forward, the first thick ridge popping inside with a wet splurch. Loki groaned, bone deep relief skittering down his spine. He’d been ignoring his own arousal since he’d first undressed his pet, his hard cock easy to ignore in favor of his squirming fae. 

But now that he could feel those wet, tight walls hugging his flesh, control was slowly slipping from his fingers. He groaned, pressing slowly deeper, the edge of his second ridge pressing against his pet’s tight rim. He felt warm, Tony’s chest pressing up against him, his short gasps echoing softly in the quiet between them. The wet sounds of Tony’s hole sloshing with cold lube lewd and ridiculous, and Loki laughed quietly against Tony’s neck. 

Tony’s rim was just as tight, offering but a token resistance against Loki’s implacable progress. It opened, slowly, letting the second ridge through with a wet sound. Loki groaned, hips skittering forward with a few involuntary thrusts, the third ridge bumping against Tony’s ass. 

Tony cursed with a moan, hips jerking as he gasped. 

“Just how many of those are there?”

Loki chuckled, nibbling Tony’s neck. 

“Nine.”

There was a curse, Tony’s walls clenching tight against his cock. Loki closed his eyes, breath ragged. 

“Fucking… _Nine?!”_

Loki only chuckled. 

“You chickening out, love?”

Slowly, deeper, further, the third ridge breached through, somehow easier that the previous. They both groaned. 

“Fucking hell no. Give me that dick and stop treating me like glass!”

Tony rolled his hips, pressing up even closer, as close as he could with the restrains anchoring him down. Loki wanted nothing more than to take him up on his offer, to just slam himself all the way in and bottom out in a single thrust, but he _wouldn’t._ Still, he could perhaps afford to go a little faster. 

A forceful thrust pushed two more ridges in at once. Tony cried out, hole clenching down around Loki’s shaft like a vice, ragged gasps escaping him as Loki paused, teeth gritted, waiting for him to catch his breath. 

“What are you waiting for? More!” 

Loki chuckled, Tony’s bravado even more delicious for how beautifully it would break. Tony looked magnificent when wrecked, but he was delightful when full of snark. 

He pulled back one ridge, listening carefully for the ragged gasp it tore from Tony’s throat, before ramming forward once more. One ridge, two. Five ridges in, he wasn’t even halfway in, considering the knot at the base of his cock. 

“If you’re struggling with just that, how will you take my knot, pet?”

Tony groaned, the sound blending arousal and exasperation. 

“I’d forgotten about that.” 

Loki chuckled, pulling out one ridge. A gasp.

“You mean you weren’t paying attention.”

Tony huffed, mulish. 

“You should pick better times to give your— _Ah!—_ explanation.”

Six, seven. Loki moved slowly back and forth, getting used to the hot press of Tony’s walls around him, clutching him so deliciously. Pull back; one ridge popping out into the cold air, push back in with a snap of his hips, smoothly gliding through the cool slick around him. Tony squirmed, his breaths short and loud, sometimes broken by small, desperate cries. His cock was hard and throbbing when Loki went to stroke it, Tony twisting and crying out, walls clenching tight around Loki. He was too close, too sensitive, almost sobbing with the need to come. 

Not yet, though. Loki soothed his pet, carding his hand through his hair, tugging gently at the damp strands and stealing a kiss from frantic lips. 

Loki started rocking his hips, deeper, stronger, plunging deep into his pet before removing himself slowly and ramming even deeper. Tony cried out, welcoming him, meeting each thrust with his own, clutching at his cock as though he was starved for it. They crashed together like the tides, like cracking glaciers falling apart into each other. 

And Loki sank his way ever deeper into his pet, his way still eased by the remnants of his ice-lube. His cock was so large against his pet’s hole he suspected it might not have even been possible without magical intervention, but Tony was still squirming against him, hole gripping his cock as though he never wanted to let it go, his voice hoarse as he begged for more, for harder and faster and _deeper still._

And Loki gave it to him, slamming deeper and deeper, sinking so deep into his pet he could feel his ninth ridge sinking in, his pet’s rim pushing against his knot. 

Their pace was quick and furious, tender as Loki tried to be. Tony was frantic and needy, Loki was just as close to the edge and they came together again and again like forces of nature, unstoppable as pleasure mounted higher and higher between them.

Tony howled and clenched up each time Loki rammed into his prostate, Loki cursed and growled with each of Tony’s pleas, getting steadily closer to his own peak. 

But Tony wanted more. 

“Give me your damn knot, _damn you!”_

Loki growled, primal need searing through his veins. It was growing inside him, rumbling through his chest and slowly becoming irrepressible, the urge to claim, to own, to bury himself so deep in his lover that nothing would ever be able to dislodge him as he filled him with his seed. His fangs itched to mark, to _take a mate._

He bit down, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh of Tony’s shoulder just as he slammed his cock all the way through inside his pet, bottoming out as his thick knot forced its way in with a lewd pop. He growled out, his pet’s ass pressing against his groin, Tony’s trembling frame cradled in his arms as he howled brokenly. 

He could feel his release coming, his knot slowly thickening with the onset of his orgasm, filling out with his seed and locking them together. Loki brought a hand between them, stroking his pet’s cock, once, twice, feeling it jerk and pulse into his hand, strings of come spurting between them. 

Loki kept stroking, caressing his pet’s hair, keeping him together while he shattered in his arms. 

He was still biting down on his poor pet’s neck. Loki forced himself to breathe out, to bury down his predatory instincts once more. His mate was there in his arms, safe, claimed already in the way of fae and jotnar both. There was no need to injure him further. He unclenched his teeth, licking at his pet’s wounded neck and leaning back to see how Tony was feeling. 

Blissed out, apparently, with a silly smile painted on his lips, and a limpness in his form that screamed satedness, peace. His pet did not seem overly traumatized by his sudden onset of animalistic behavior. In fact he seemed quite fulfilled. Content. 

Good. 

Loki groaned as his slowly inflating knot brought itself back to his attention. His pet’s ass was already so very tight, now it was almost painfully good, the skin so taut and constricting he knew not a single drop of his seed would escape. He clutched his pet closer, pressing their groins even tighter together, sensing his pets rim desperately trying to close around his base. 

Loki rumbled, a deep, animalistic sort of purr. 

Tony groaned, his euphoric state hazy and detached from reality, and yet he was still pressing closer, seeking Loki’s touch, his warmth. His every muscle was limp and relaxed, and distantly Loki knew that it was good, that it would help him accommodate the knot better. 

Loki shivered, pleasure skittering through his veins and pooling through his belly as Tony’s hole milked him so deliciously. He was still swelling, still thickening, but already he could feel the pressure around his base, almost unbearable with how good it felt. He growled, purring, burying his nose against Tony’s neck again. His pet smelled like him. 

Like oak and pine and sated bliss and sex and sweat, but also like Loki. Or rather, like _Loki’s._

That was good. 

On that thought, his arousal crested, waves of waves of bliss crashing through him, the world turning white, mind blank with pleasure. 

In his arms, his pet squirmed, the feel of hot spurts of cum filling him up, gush after gush of Loki’s juice flooding his insides, sealed in by the thick knot stuffing his hole. Loki rumbled in primal pleasure, the predatory satisfaction of having his pet so deliciously submissive in his arms, plugged close and slowly filling up with his seed made the wildest part of him rumble with delight. 

Tony’s restraints melted around him, gently releasing their grip so that Loki could better hold him instead. He started stroking and massaging his weakened limbs, checking for redness, indents or bruising before laying him comfortably against his chest and presenting a few ice chips to his parched lips. It would be enough to stave off his pet's dehydration until Loki could get him a full meal. 

They were still joined, of course, Loki’s knot would last for a few candlemarks still, but now they would be comfortable. 

Tony dutifully sucked on them before chuckling drowsily, nuzzling into Loki’s neck. 

“Mh, I knew you would be interesting.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, really? Well I do hope that this was _interesting_ enough for you, darling. Since entertainment value is what you look for in a partner.”

Tony huffed, half opening an eye to glare at him. 

“You’re misinterpreting my words, Snowflake.”

Loki hummed, unconvinced. 

“Oh, am I?”

Tony shook his head, then shimmied his hips, clenching down. They both groaned, shuddering, the rush of pleasure as delicious as overwhelming, just on the perfect edge of too much. 

“I don’t look for entertainment value in a partner. Entertainment value is easy to find in the first fool to come past, you play a few tricks and they flail their arms like scarecrows, you give them something shiny and they crow like magpies. That is entertaining yes, but also boring. Unsustainable. Predictable.”

The fae fell limp, pressing closer and sighing happily. 

“What I _do_ look for in a partner is _a challenge._ And in that you’ve always risen so beautifully to the occasion. With each riddle, each game, each wager played. Even when you lost you did not give up, you did not let yourself be fooled. You did not take the first option that looked right, the easy way out.”

Loki frowned down at his mate. There was something in his words that echoed strangely between them, perhaps something a bit _too_ honest. Something Loki should have guessed a long time ago.

“It was a test.” 

Tony chuckled. 

“What isn’t a test, in this world? We meet, we talk, we see if we match. My way was no more devious than another’s. You can’t tell me you did not use your own findings to decide if I was suitable to you.” 

That was true enough. 

“How does soul magic fit into this?”

Golden eyes peeked at his own red gaze, something reproachful in their depths. As though Loki was being slow. 

“How does your hunt for a mate?”

...Busted. 

Tony smirked. 

“You owe me, lover. Next time we play those kinds of games, I’ll be the one to tie you up. And believe me, I’ll make sure to gag you because your most dangerous weapon is _definitely_ that wily mouth of yours and the too clever words you keep spouting. It’s definitely too powerful.” 

Loki’s eyes took on an interested gleam. 

“No? But wouldn’t you want to hear me beg? To hear my voice wrecked with lust and pleasure, to listen to me moan desperately and plead for more?”

Tony laughed. 

“This is _exactly_ what I meant. You’re dangerous and powerful and charming and I wouldn’t want you any other way, tricksy ploys and all. I think I love you.”

Loki felt warmed at that. Crushing the fae to his chest, he let his own vulnerable heart be soothed by the hum of their joined souls harmonizing, a slow, gentle tune that lulled him into a blissful state. Tony chuckled, sofly nuzzling Loki’s chest before sighing, respiration slowing as he eased into slumber. 

“I think I love you too.” The words were whispered against his pet’s brow, quiet in the lull of the late afternoon. 

He leaned back, letting his thoughts drift. 

Loki frowned, glancing back to the side. He’d thought he'd seen something from the corner of his eye but he couldn’t see anything amiss. His pet was snoozing softly against him, his array long dissolved, the sun close to setting. Birds chirping, nothing dangerous waiting for them. Then what? 

He stroked his pet’s spine as he thought, absentmindedly eyeing the strange golden markings that now covered his hand like a lace filigree glove. He turned his hand, seeing that the small star on his wrist had also become the same iridescent gold as Tony’s own expansive markings. 

Gold on blue. The contrast was striking. 

Curiosity made him look for Tony’s own hands. Like him, he now had a single hand gloved in golden markings, the hands under his soul-star. 

“What does it mean?”

Tony’s eyes slid open, his lips tugged into a lazy smirk. He sleepily offered up his golden hand, golden eyes daring Loki to take his invitation. 

Their hands met, Loki clasping Tony’s palm in his own, admiring the contrast of colors between them. Then he felt it. 

The rush of magic, impossible, incredible, the kind of power that could move mountains and open the skies. It was there in a rush, then gone, replaced by the warm comfort of Tony’s soul nestled against his, mischievous, clever, wild. He could feel his lover’s feelings, his affection, his amusement, his sleepiness. He could feel his own care reflected back at him in a strange echo, his still lingering lust and pleasure, his comfort. 

Somehow, it felt even more mind blowing than the absolute power offer previously. 

Tony smiled, serene, content like the cat who caught himself the juiciest canary in the valley. 

“It means that you were wrong. I haven’t spent millenia merely looking for a piece of magic, no matter how powerful. I’ve been looking for _you.”_

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought! <3 this was a new thing for me, trying to get into a dom!Loki headset so I’d like to know if you enjoyed it!


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